The Convenient Mail Order Bride Page 4

  She stepped onto the porch and softly shut the door. There were two rocking chairs, just as there had been two beds in the cabin. One chair must have been for his mother. The other must have been for him. He’d said his parents hadn’t been married. Did that mean he didn’t know his father? She hadn’t dared to ask, nor did she think she’d have the nerve to do so. Not any time soon anyway. She’d just met him. While she intended to marry him, they had a ways to go before she’d find out the details about his past. She, on the other hand, had nothing to hide. He could ask her anything, and she’d answer him.

  But that was neither here nor there. Before they were ready to talk about their past, they’d be better off getting to know each other, as her mother had suggested. She took a deep breath and released it. A breeze rustled the tree branches. Except for that and the occasional neighing and mooing from the animals, she didn’t hear a thing. What a difference it was from Cincinnati. It was so quiet here. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to it, but she did enjoy the expanse of land which sloped gently down the hillside, and she liked the trees that were all around her, giving her a sense of privacy she’d never really had.

  The sound of a hammer hitting a nail brought her attention back to Abe, who was pounding something on the roof. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d come out here to offer him a helping hand, and that’s exactly what she’d do.

  Acting braver than she felt, she headed down the porch steps and crossed the distance to the barn. He didn’t notice her. At least, he didn’t give any indication he noticed her.

  “Abe?” she called out once she reached the ladder.

  He stopped hammering and glanced down at her. “Do you need something?”

  “No. Mother and I are fine. I came out to see if you needed help.”

  “Help?”

  Noting the bewildered tone in his voice, she said, “Well, you’re on top of the barn repairing the roof. I might not know much about fixing things, but I can offer my assistance. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

  He didn’t answer right away, and she couldn’t tell if he’d heard her or not over the rustling trees around them. But then, he said, “I could use some more nails.”

  “I’ll be happy to bring them up. Where are they?”

  “On the shelf over the worktable in the barn. It’s right by the window.”

  “I’ll be right up.”

  Without waiting for him to respond, she hurried into the barn. A horse neighed at her, almost causing her to bump into the worktable. She had to get a hold of herself. Yes, it was natural to be nervous. Any woman in her situation would be nervous. So much depended on how the next couple of weeks went.

  Taking a moment to regain her composure, she scanned the barn. A horse was in one of the stalls, and there was a cow in the other. Two other stalls were empty, having just been swept out. There were hooks along the walls with rakes and shovels and other items hanging on them. Then there was a section in the corner with a saddle. Her gaze went up to the loft. She had no idea what he had up there. But as her gaze swept the ceiling, she could see the hole he was repairing. At the moment, he had resumed his hammering, reminding her he needed more nails.

  She found the tin cup he’d mentioned and grabbed it. She climbed the ladder, careful to keep a firm grip on the cup as she did so. When she reached the roof, he put his hammer down and crossed the short distance to her.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking it.

  He scooted back to the small hole.

  He probably expected her to go back down the ladder and return to the house, but she decided to join him. Never once in Ohio did she think she’d ever be so bold. He hadn’t invited her to come up on the roof, after all. But if she was going to marry him, she couldn’t spend her entire life hiding from him.

  She had to lift her skirt in order to get on the roof. Thankfully, he wasn’t even looking in her direction, or else he would have seen her face flush a brighter shade of red from exposing so much of her legs.

  Once she was presentable, she sat near him and asked, “What happened to the roof?”

  He jerked, and she was surprised he hadn’t heard her. She didn’t think she’d been that quiet. “Do you mind if I’m up here?” she finally asked when he didn’t say anything.

  He blinked for a moment then shook his head. “No. I just thought you and your mother would be busy unpacking.”

  “Oh, we’re done. I came out because there’s nothing else to do. My mother is resting.” She shrugged. “I don’t like to sit around when there’s work to be done.”

  “Well, this isn’t the kind of work for a lady.”

  “I know, but I can help.” She gestured to the cup of nails beside him. “I got those.”

  He let out a soft chuckle, and she couldn’t help but note how nice he looked when he smiled. “I can’t think of anything else for you to do.”

  She brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them. “Can I keep you company?”

  He didn’t answer right away. In fact, he looked down at the hammer and nails in this hand. Then, after a long moment, he returned his gaze to her. “You’re a talker, aren’t you?”

  “A what?”

  “A talker. You like to be around people. You don’t like being alone. Am I right?”

  “I don’t like to be the center of attention, but I enjoy time with family and friends.” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Are you the type who prefers to be alone?”

  “I don’t mind being alone. Sometimes it’s better to be alone than be in a group and realize you’re all alone.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed at his meaning. “How is that possible?”

  He shook his head. “A pretty, white lady like you wouldn’t know.”

  Trying not to let the fact that he called her pretty deter her from figuring out what he meant, she said, “My experience with people has been limited. I admit that. But I’d still like to know how that’s possible.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Just because you are in a room full of people, it doesn’t mean those people want you there. Sometimes they consider you to be an inconvenience. Sometimes you have to fight to be heard. It’s good you’ll never know what I’m talking about.”

  He turned his attention back to hammering the nail into the roof, and she struggled with knowing what to say next. Finally, she ventured, “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

  He stopped pounding the nail. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m used to it.”

  His comment made her wonder how much he’d been through, how often he felt left out. But she sensed it wasn’t the time to press him on this. She’d only met him an hour ago. Deciding it might be best to change the topic, she scanned the property. There were trees throughout his land, and the buildings were on a slight incline. But further down, she caught sight of a stream just beyond a row of newly planted trees. When she looked up, above the trees, she caught sight of mountains in the background.

  “You have a beautiful view,” she said.

  “It’s alright.”

  “Alright? It’s amazing. I’ve never seen such beauty.”

  He gestured to the stream with his hammer. “You see that area over there?”

  “Yes.”

  “That should be mine, but Carl has staked it as if it belongs to him. And you want to know why? Because he thinks whatever he wants is his. He has no respect for other people’s things.”

  To her surprise, he set the hammer and nails down and scooted over to her. He pushed his black hair over his shoulder.

  “That area belonged to my uncle before he died,” he continued. “He and my mother were forced out of their tribe when the white man came for the gold in Georgia. He built this place with his own two hands. Then he died and left my mother everything. After that, Carl’s father felt it was his right to take the stream and twenty acres on the other side of it.” He motioned back to the area surrounded by trees. “That’s what white men do. They see something and they take it. Th
ey don’t care if it already belongs to someone or not. Then they have the nerve to act as if we’re wrong for wanting them to get off our land. You know what Carl wants with that land?”

  Of course, she didn’t, which made it ironic he even asked the question. But since he seemed to want her to speak, she obliged him. “What does he want?”

  “Gold.”

  She didn’t know what he expected her to say. In Ohio, these things weren’t important. She’d only heard a little about gold rushes out West, but it’d never concerned her so she dismissed the small tidbits she’d heard. Apparently, the whole thing was important out here, and she had a nagging suspicion she was going to learn a lot more about it in the years to come.

  Abe let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be troubling you with all of this. It’s not your fault. I know you’re white, but you had nothing to do with it. Sometimes I have to remind myself not all white people are bad.”

  With a sinking feeling in her heart, Phoebe turned her attention back to the mountains. She didn’t know much of his past, but from what she gathered, things hadn’t been very pleasant for him. And this would undoubtedly affect how things were going to be between them.

  He glanced at her then to the hole in the roof. “I should get back to work.”

  She nodded and decided it might be in her best interest to get back into the house. She didn’t think there was anything she could say or do to make things better. At least not right now. Besides, her mother would be getting up soon, and when she did, Phoebe wanted to help her with the evening meal.

  Chapter Five

  When Abe was done repairing the roof and feeding the animals, he went into the cabin. He’d gotten used to coming into a dim room, which was either hot or cold, depending on the weather. But this time when he opened the door, there was a breeze blowing in through the open windows and the smell of biscuits and stew were in the air.

  The two women were busy setting the table, so they didn’t notice him. He took a moment to watch them. For a moment, he was reminded of the times he’d come in from finishing the chores to see his mother making dinner. The place hadn’t been the same since she died.

  Phoebe and her mother stopped talking and looked over at him. Feeling self-conscious, he gave them a nod as a greeting and shut the door. He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to think of what he could say to make things less awkward.

  None of them asked to be stuck in this situation. Carl had written the ad, pretending to be him. Phoebe and her mother were probably as nervous about this new setup as he was. But since he was the man, he figured it was up to him to say something first.

  He cleared his throat. “It smells good in here.” Wonderful, Abe. Just come out and state the obvious.

  “Thank you,” Phoebe’s mother said. “Why don’t you sit on down, and we’ll start eating in a moment.”

  Since she patted the chair next to her, he went over to the chair. He glanced at Phoebe, but she was gathering the biscuits onto a tray. He swallowed. The last time that tray had been used, his mother had put tea on it to entertain his father. She had wanted so much to please him that she had only the best things out whenever he came over. To this day, he didn’t understand her mindless devotion to him.

  “I hope you like stew,” Phoebe’s mother said.

  Turning his attention to her, he nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice your garden when we came in,” she continued as she put the large pot in the middle of the table. “Back in Cincinnati, we didn’t have room to grow anything. Not even a small plot. Out here, though, you have so much space, and I notice you make good use of it.”

  “It is the way of my people to use everything we’re given,” he said. “To waste anything is wrong.”

  “Your people?”

  “Ma,” Phoebe quickly said, “where did you put the tea punch?”

  Her mother’s gaze went to the worktable. “Oh, over there, I think.”

  While Phoebe went to get the pitcher, he glanced at her. Did she interrupt her mother on purpose? Wasn’t she the least bit curious which tribe he came from?

  Phoebe returned with the pitcher. “Have you ever had tea punch before, Abe?”

  “No, I can’t say I have.”

  “It’s a recipe we used to make quite a bit back home. I couldn’t help but notice your tea bags. I thought it’d be a good way to use them. I hope that’s alright. Would you rather have regular tea?”

  “No.” He didn’t want to ever drink tea again. It only reminded him of the white men who’d forced his people off their land and, in so doing, forced his mother and uncle out here. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to drink tea punch. But he had a difficult time disappointing an old woman. If nothing else, he’d do it out of respect for her. “I look forward to trying it,” he finally said.

  She smiled, and he felt better on her behalf. She went through a lot of trouble to make this meal with her daughter. The least he could do was eat it.

  Soon, they began the meal. For a good five minutes, they ate in silence. Phoebe, who was sitting across from him, refused to look at him. Earlier that day, she’d made an impassioned plea for him to marry her. And considering the fact that she made it a point to come out to the barn and sit on the roof while he worked, he had no idea why she chose to avoid eye contact with him now.

  Women were difficult to figure out. He wasn’t likely to understand Phoebe any more than he understood his own mother. He forced his attention back to his food, choosing to listen as Phoebe’s mother told him about all the places they’d been on their way here. Apparently, they’d started out on a train, and after making a transfer to a different one, they spent the night in a town whose name he couldn’t pronounce. From there, they took the stagecoach, which ended up being an eight-day journey.

  “The important thing is we’re here now,” her mother finished with a wide smile. “You got a real nice place, Abe. It’s much better than some we saw along the way. Even the houses in town weren’t quite as nice, though I recall the yellow one being adorable.” She took a breath then asked, “Is the tea punch satisfactory?”

  Surprised she’d stopped her discourse on the trip to ask the question, he didn’t answer right away. After taking a moment to clear his throat, he nodded. “It’s much better than plain tea.” Her eyebrows furrowed, so he clarified, “I like it.”

  “Oh good,” she replied, looking relieved. “There’s so much tea I didn’t want to waste it.” She stood up and took his plate. “Don’t mind me and Phoebe. We’ll clean up. You go on and do whatever you need to, right Phoebe?”

  Though Phoebe nodded, she still didn’t look over at him. She only got up and helped her mother collect the dishes.

  Deciding he had nothing to contribute, he rose to his feet and headed for the door. He might be better off getting chores done early. Then when he got back, he’d go to bed. It was awkward enough sitting through a meal with the two women. He didn’t need to sit out in the main room with them.

  Just as he reached the door, her mother called out to him. He turned back toward her, and she walked to him, moving faster than he thought possible for a woman her age.

  When she stopped in front of him, she put her hand on his arm and gave him a reassuring smile. “You can call me Viv. My name is Vivian, but my family and friends call me Viv.”

  “Alright,” he replied, not sure what else he was supposed to say. Except for maybe one thing. “The meal was good.”

  “I’m glad you think so. Whatever Phoebe and I can do to make things easier for you, let us know.” She paused for a moment, glanced over at Phoebe who was washing dishes, and said, “Give her time. She’s always been shy around new people. She’ll come around to talking more as she gets comfortable.” She patted his arm again then went back to help her daughter.

  That was funny. Phoebe hadn’t struck him as shy earlier that day. Oh well. He had better things to do than wonder why she’d been so quiet during
the meal. He opened the door and stepped outside.

  On a whim, he glanced back. There was no doubt how close Phoebe and her mother were. Viv said something that made Phoebe chuckle. Phoebe had a nice laugh. He guessed it would be even better when she burst out into laughter. The sunlight streaming in through the window settled on her hair, making it shine like the gold so many white men valued. Valued so much they drove out anyone in their way so they could get to it. He swallowed the bitter thought, shut the door, and went to the barn.

  ***

  “Phoebe, what’s wrong?” her mother asked as soon as Abe left.

  Phoebe should have known her mother would pick up that something was wrong. Well, not wrong, really. Just…difficult. And she didn’t know how to adequately explain that to her.

  Since her mother was standing right next to her and giving her that all-too-familiar look that insisted Phoebe had to tell her, she did.

  “Alright,” Phoebe relented, putting the dish in the bucket and turning to her. “This is going to be harder than I expected. Abe thinks a lot of white people are evil.”

  “Evil?”

  “He didn’t use those exact words. He said that white men take things from Indians, and because of this, it’s hard to trust them.”

  Her mother took a moment to consider her words before answering. “Well, I can’t say I know much about Indians and how they’ve been treated. Did someone do something to Abe because he’s got Indian blood in him?”

  “Carl’s claimed some acreage and the stream Abe said is rightfully his.”

  “The stream? You mean the one Carl wrote in that missive saying Abe owned?”

  Phoebe nodded.

  Her mother shook her head. “Given the fact that Carl pretended to be Abe, it shouldn’t surprise me he lied about the stream.”

  “But the stream and land with it is Abe’s. Abe’s uncle came here and claimed it, fair and square, before Carl’s father came out here. I think Carl’s father just wanted the gold.”